A House, A Home
by Bossy Mossy
Summary: "I know this isn't much of a house, let alone a home, but... I promise. It'll get better. It'll get better for both of us." Flinx, drabbleish, oneshot. Jinx's POV.


It had to be the cheapest piece of shit that money could buy, in the most dangerous part of town, but we were both heroes - well, more or less, I suppose... - and buying anything more expensive was out of the question.

Wally was Kid Flash, not Robin. He didn't come from a such a prestigious, rich family. Hell, he was lucky if his family even gave him money (who wouldn't love a speedster? I love their son more than they did and I wouldn't have even met him if he wasn't _the_ Kid Flash.) and the only money I had was from pick-pocketing, and Wally made me drop that real quick, for better or worse. The only money we had was the monthly income that the Justice League gave each member of the Titans for their own personal deeds, clothing and the works... and if it wasn't for that, we wouldn't have any, I assumed.

I suppose that was why we ended up in a cheap rental house, with a family to the right of us with loud children and a couple to the left that either got slaughtered on a daily basis or just had a lot of hate sex. The front door barely locked, the wood floors squeaked, and it seemed like I had to bother the landlord almost weekly about our hot water cutting out and our heat not working as it should. The money we had left over every month was just enough to buy groceries, nothing more. I'd attempted to get a job for spare cash, but the family next door only wanted to offer me drugs in return for babysitting their children. That didn't last long.

We had a tiny bathroom and a tiny bedroom, and if it had been under better circumstances, maybe we wouldn't have shared one with the terms we were barely holding, but Wally needed to get away from his parents and I needed to get away from the H.I.V.E. There was no other way this would have worked for either of us unless we had come together, but that didn't make us instant lovers.

There were some nights that I slept on the couch, and some nights that he didn't come home at all. Wally had his life and I had mine, and where I slept or who he slept _with_ was none of my concern. I had bigger things to worry about, like why our oven wasn't hooked up and why I had to keep bothering our asshole for a landlord about our heat. Wally may have been a speedster, but that didn't make him immune to being sick.

And even if he didn't care for me the way I did for him, I was responsable for his well being. I owed him that much, at the least.

"What're you still doing up?"

I hadn't heard the door open, which was a surprise in it's own. I looked up from where I was sitting on the floor, huddled up against the radiator, the comforter from our bed wrapped around my shoulders.

"The Asshole finally turned our heat on. I'm enjoying it," I grumbled, "while it lasts, anyway. Where were you?"

"What am I, married?" Wally's tone mirrored my own, exhausted and angry, and I watched as he strode across the living room and into our bedroom. I never saw him transition from being Kid Flash to being Wally; it was as if there wasn't a transition or a correlation between the two, they were two seperate intities entirely. He'd be Kid Flash and then he wasn't. It took him mere seconds to change identities, and even that told me he was beyond fatigued as he walked back into the living room.

"Well, excuse me for being concerned for your well being, Wally." I murmured, lifting an arm and the comforter. Moments later I felt him sit down behind me, ducking under the thick blanket, and with a startled flinch his hands wrapped around my waist and pulled me onto his lap. The blanket encompassed us both, the dry heat coming from the radiator and Wally's chilled cheek conflicting on my skin.

"You don't have to be. I'm Kid Flash, remember?"

"You aren't perfect," I snapped at him, "you aren't Superman. You have flaws. You have weaknesses. I'm sorry that I want to make sure you're okay. I didn't want to go to bed and wake up and you _still_ not be here, and it be because you got injured."

"I'd find my way home, Jinx," he murmured, pressing his cheek against mine, resting his chin on my shoulder. "I'll always find my way home to you."

"You can't make that promise." My voice was hushed, forlorn, my gaze adverted to the ground. A car rushed by outside our window, a horn blaring, and I could feel Wally's arms sneak around my chest and pull me in closer, protecting me more than this shitty house ever could.

"I can, and I will," He told me. "I know this isn't much of a house, let alone a home, but... I promise. It'll get better. It'll get better for both of us." He didn't kiss me; we didn't need such blatant displays of affection all the time; but his cheek against my own and the way he held me was even more touching than a kiss could ever be. "One day, we'll have a nice house, and it'll have heat, good heat. And we can have hot water and actually use our stove for cooking. We'll have a nicer bed and we won't have to worry about the mice." He sighed, "it'll get better."

"...you promise?"

"'Course."


End file.
